


This Seat Taken?

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: And it may be sooner than they realize, Angst, Audial horn and helm fin wiggles, Blushing mechs, Bob playing matchmaker, Drunken jerks, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fort Max to the rescue, Friendship, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of care giving, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past torture and rape, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sunstreaker, Self Harm, Snuggles and Nuzzles, Sunstreaker to the rescue, Two strong mechs crying, Two very hurt and abused mechs coming together and saving each other eventually falling in love, Vulnerable Fort Max, beginning of relationship, enough with the tags!, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker is sad and needs a friend. He's lonely. Bob doesn't like it. Fort Max is sad and lonely and needs a friend. And Bob doesn't like it. Bob does something about it.... </p><p>*author sucks at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a couple fics where Sunny calls Bob daffy. I credit those authors with the genius description. I borrowed it because I love it and I hope that's okay. =) Also, Deathcomes4u wrote this AMAZING fic, "Fresh Paint", in which Sunstreaker has taken over an unused observation deck for his hab suite and I love that idea so much that I have Sunstreaker using an unused observation deck for a hab suite in my fic. All credit goes to Deathcomes4u for that brilliant idea. Which should be cannon it's so great. If I knew how to contact them for permission to use it, I would, (AO3 please add a message feature! Gah!) but I don't, so this is all I can do. If you haven't read "Fresh Paint" go do it. Now. It's brilliant. I've read it many times. The idea to use the observation deck as a hab suite works really well for my story as well because, let's face it, Max is a big guy. He needs room. So yeah. Again, not my idea, all credit to them for the observation deck as hab suite.

"Bob! Get back here! No Swerve's tonight! Daffy bug..." Sunstreaker groans as his best friend (and isn't THAT lame) bounces happily into Swerve's, equally happy in ignoring Sunstreaker's plea to NOT enter the bar. 

 

With a heavy sigh Sunstreaker walks into the fully packed bar, his optics seeking out his wayward insecticon, settling instead on one very large, very miserable looking, former prison warden, who is currently trying to shrink down in size away from a group of drunken, not-so-nice mechs seemingly intent on hurting said former warden, if their chosen words of: "Traitor"(Powerglide),"Psycho"(Atomizer),"... S'thought ya were 'sposed to be strong..."(Smokescreen),"Murderer" (Brawn), we're anything to go by. Oh how familiar those very words are to Sunstreaker. How familiar and how very nasty. How very hurtful. How very wrong. 

 

How very bullying. 

 

And Sunstreaker just happens to hate-no, DESPISE-bullies. 

 

Sunstreaker quietly walks up to Fort Max's table. He places his right hand on Powerglide's left shoulder, and his left hand on Smokescreen's right shoulder.

 

And squeezes. 

 

Hard. 

 

The golden mech smirks and digs his fingers into the joints of each shoulder, bringing both Powerglide and Smokescreen to their knees with a pathetic whimper. "Ya know what I think?" 

 

Several helms turn toward Sunstreaker, the roar of various conversations turning to whispers at the deadly hiss of words from the frontliner's vocalizer. 

 

"I think you morons have had way too much to drink and that," Apply some more pressure....here....and then with the thumb....here... "...you should all get the fuck outta Swerve's and leave Fortress Maximus alone." He glares darkly at Brawn and Atomizer as he releases Smokescreen and Powerglide. "Now!"

 

Half the bar jumps when Sunstreaker yells, which privately makes him smile, then, show over, they return to their drinks and companions with only the occasional glance over. Sunstreaker rolls his optics. 

 

Being the cowards that Atomizer and Powerglide are, they hurriedly take off with Powerglide cradling his left arm to his chest. 

 

"Yer a sssssuh-slaggin' suhsssssslaggg-" Smokescreen's intakes hiccup, conversation apparently over, and he slams a hand on the seat of a nearby chair in an attempt to help himself up, which promptly fails when he pulls way too hard, and the chair ends up smacking him in the face, knocking him onto his back. 

 

Sunstreaker laughs his ass off and Brawn glares hotly at him for it as he helps Smokescreen up. 

 

"You're a real fragger, Sunstreaker,"

 

"And you're a short asshole, Brawn," Sunstreaker replies coolly. Once the loathsome runt leaves with his idiot, Sunstreaker rights the chair that assaulted Smokescreen and takes a seat across from a now stunned looking Fortress Maximus, concern worming into his spark. "Hey, Max,"

 

Fortress Maximus went from wishing a black hole would swallow him up, which wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibilities considering Brainstorm(plus briefcase) is sitting in a corner booth with Perceptor, to wishing he could figure out what the frag just happened and that he had a functioning vocalizer. Why would Sunstreaker, of all mechs, come to his defense? Why is Sunstreaker sitting with him? Why does Sunstreaker act like he WANTS to be right where he is? Why does Sunstre-

 

"Oh! Ah! Ah! What?! Wha-" Max blinks, his tank treads flexing and wiggling with surprise, and looks between his legs...to find four sets of red optics glowing brightly, antennas wiggling happily(?), and little claws resting on his massive thighs. "B-Bob?!" 

 

"Sorry, Max... "Fragging bug... "Bob! C'mere! Don't bother Max now... " Sunstreaker leans down and looks under the table, motioning for his wayward bug to come to him. But Bob has other ideas. Like wiggling ridiculously, buzzing and chirping happily. For fucks sake, Bob. 

 

Fort Max's cheeks flush, the soft metal turning pink as it warms."It's alright. He...he's f-fine. Uh, just surprised me, is all," He looks down at the wriggling and chirping bug, and carefully scratches between Bob's antennas. "H-Hi, Bob. How are you?" 

 

"He likes you," Sunstreaker smiles as he sits up, watching Max pet Bob. "He's usually affectionate with some mechs, but, I gotta say I've never seen him THIS affectionate or this happy about it," He leans his elbow on the table, chin and cheek resting on his open palm as he fondly watches Fort Max with Bob. 

 

A rare smile starts to bloom on Max's face when Bob chirps merrily from what Max guesses was a good pet. "Me? R-Really? I... I don't why...." Just as quickly as the smile appeared, it vanishes and Max brings his hands up to curl around his drink, still not making optic contact with Sunstreaker. "He's nice though. You've done a... good.....a good job with him..."

 

Bob whines for a minute and then huffs; with no further pets coming he slumps down and settles between his master and Fortress Maximus. 

 

"Thanks, Max. That means a lot," Smiling softly, he leans forward. "He likes you cos you're calm and soft-spoken, and you're nice to him every time he sees you. You're consistent."

 

Fort Max shrugs and cycles air heavily through his vents, heavy treads slumping down. "More like traitorous and weak. Murdering too....apparently... "

 

 

Sunstreaker frowns, taking notice of how expressive Max's tank tracks are. Huh. Similar to a seeker's wings...and a certain Praxian's doors. Plenty of emotion expressed if ya pay attention, and right now, Max is incredibly sad. Know how that is too, big guy. "You're none of those things, Max. And as for murderer, well that's just stupid. You haven't killed anyone. In fact, those words are more than accurate to describe me, not you." And why the hell did he just say that? Ugh. He just can't help himself. That's because you need to talk about it. _NO I DON'T!_ "Don't listen to them and please don't take to spark what those idiots say. They ain't worth it, Max, "

 

" Huh?" Fort Max blinks and looks up from his untouched glass of engex, confusion writ on his face. He strokes the sides of his glass as he stares at Sunstreaker, still trying to figure out why the frontliner is talking to him. Surely there's other mechs he'd rather be with. Well, actually, come to think of it, Max has never seen Sunstreaker with anyone else. He looks around the bar, the optics of those his gaze meets quickly turning away, hushed whispers following. They're all talking about him...and....and laughing....at him.... His spark sinks along with his shoulders and tracks, his optics dull and very, very sad. 

 

Sunstreaker frowns as he watches Fort Max, following his gaze around the bar. Fantastic. Max and him are the topic of conversation. Just great. Fraggin' buncha fucking assholes! Damn it! Fucking Hunter and his human expletives! He can't even curse right in his own head anymore! Ugh! Time to go. "Hey...uh....ya wanna get outta here? Maybe go someplace where you and I WON'T be the center of everyone's idiotic attention? We can....uh...go to my hab suite-slash-observation deck-no one-uses-anymore-that-I-just-took-over-and-frag-the-lot-of-em?" 

 

Fort Max is on the verge of panicking. All these people laughing at him. Laughing at his shame. His agony. Somehow he hears Sunstreaker's offer and nods desperately, answering without hesitation, his voice strained. "Y-Yes. Yes please," He flicks his optics over to Sunstreaker, who smiles warmly. Max abruptly gets to his pedes, his chair toppling over backwards, both of which causing a collective gasp of fear to ripple though Swerve's. Max hangs his helm, his tracks sagging, his powerful motor revving a little in distress. "S-Sorry..... I... I, uh....d-didn't mean it..." He fumbles, clumsily trying to right the chair, cheeks flushing hotly with embarrassment. 

 

Fragging idiots. Sunstreaker stands up, his spark tightening at Max's distress, and gives each mech a nasty glare before looking up at Max with a reassuring smile. "Ready?" 

 

Fort Max nods, leaving the uncooperative chair leaning against the table, and starts to follow Sunstreaker out. 

 

"Let's go, Bob,"

 

Bob happily stretches before trotting up alongside his master and big-mech-who-gives-nice-petties. 

 

Rung has been watching Fort Max and Sunstreaker from the corner of the bar since the golden mech interceded on Max's behalf, and is none too happy about the current development. Of all the mechs on this ship why on Cybertron did Sunstreaker have to be the one to interact with Max. This is not a good idea! They're both suffering from severe PTSD and they both have volatile tempers. Rung frowns as he hops off his bar stool and scurries out of the bar after the frontliner and the former warden. "Excuse me! Excuse me! Sunstreaker! Fortress Maximus!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a pretty heavy duty panic attack and excessive use of the "F" word. If either of those will be triggers or offensive, please be mindful, I don't want hurt any of you. 
> 
> This fic does not paint Rung in a good light at all, so if you like him you may wish to avoid this. I am not a fan of Rung or psychiatrists in general, so this is a decidedly different take on that profession. This is what happens when psychiatry goes wrong.
> 
>  
> 
> I don't know where I'm going with it yet so we're on this ride together! Yeehaw! Lol
> 
>  
> 
> Uh... It's twenty to seven in the morning and I haven't slept yet . so I is looooopy as a mofo! I spent the whole night working this chapter over. It gave me a hell of time, but I believe I'm happy with it. =) *wipes brow* Wrangled this beeotch up good! *tosses fic* Here! Take it! *passes out*

Sunstreaker stops and rolls his optics, refusing to turn around when he hears the nosy shrink. "What? We're not allowed to leave together?" 

Fortress Maximus tenses at the sound of Rung's voice, his plating clamping down tightly, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Just go away, Rung. Please just go away. 

Sunstreaker does not fail to notice Fort Max's reaction. 

Rung hurries over when Fortress Maximus and Sunstreaker stop, walking around in front of them, not missing either of their behavior. Such a bad idea... a very, _very_ bad idea. "Of course you both are allowed to leave together. I simply just advise against it and I certainly do not endorse further emotional or physical contact between the two of you."

Oh this little shit... Who the fuck... "Oh really? And just why is that?" Sunstreaker folds his arms over his chest, glaring nastily down at Rung, patience running mighty thin. 

Fort Max narrows his optics at his psychiatrist, taking courage from Sunstreaker. "Y-Yeah. Why...w-why is that? What's so wrong about Sunstreaker and I hanging out?"

Courage now fading, Max starts to stutter, "H-He...h-he actually helped me b-b-back there. Wuhw-where were you?" His tracks shift and flex, treads rolling in distress. Max unconsciously rubs at his chest when that familiar, uneasy feeling(and that's a tame way of putting it)worms its way back into his spark, making his protoform crawl and itch. 

Sunstreaker smirks. Good for you, Max! His spark swells with pride and flutters, filling with a warmth that catches the former pits mech off guard. He leaves it, for now, drawn instead to Max rubbing his massive chest. Poor mech has really been through hell.

"He has a point, Rung, ya know. You were content to sit and watch Max get accosted, but the minute someone is nice to him you '...advise against it and certainly do not endorse further emotional or physical contact',"Sunstreaker mocks the psychiatrist, finger quotes and all. "That's pretty fucked up, Rung. Even for you. What WE do, does NOT include YOU first off, and second, it ain't none of your damn business. Now get. The fuck. Outta. Our way."

Fort Max smirks and snorts in satisfaction, the feeling in his spark relenting a bit as a new feeling settles in. Max doesn't know what that feeling is yet, but when he looks at Sunstreaker, Max feels calm and.....and warm. He feels good. 

Rung is stunned and livid at such blatant disrespect and rudeness. And, just as he feared, _his_ Maximus is already behaving like Sunstreaker. Possessiveness wells up inside Rung and swallows his spark. The last thing he wants is for Sunstreaker, of all mecha, to rub off on Maximus. To take his Maximus from him. 

Trying to remain calm, Rung folds his hands together and smiles up at Sunstreaker and Maximus. "Now, now, Sunstreaker, there is certainly no need to be rude when I am merely concerned for both of your well being," Rung removes his glasses and pulls a soft cloth out of his subspace. In a tactic to stall for time, he begins to clean each lens, holding the frames out to inspect his work after each rub.

Sunstreaker rolls his optics and shakes his helm at the idiot shrink. Unfuckingbelievable. 

Satisfied, Rung puts his glasses back on and neatly folds the cloth before returning it to his subspace. "I strongly discourage you two from whatever it is you were planning on doing. If you wish to merely talk, you can both do so in the comfort and safety of my office. Supervised. In a controlled environment." Rung smiles pleasantly, supremely confident his good judgment and calm demeanor has won. 

Is Rung for real? Seriously? Sunstreaker bursts out laughing. "Oooh... Oh wow....ah...hah ha...ha...well shit, Rung, you're funny and..." He narrows his optics and glares down at Rung, slowly enunciating each of his next words: "...supremely fucking insulting." Unreal. Un. Fucking. Real. "So, yeah, no. Fuck no, as a matter-of-fact," 

This fucking guy... Supervised 'play dates'. As if. Shaking his helm, Sunstreaker steps around Rung and starts back down the hall, smiling to himself as he watches Bob happily bounce his merry little way down the hall. He turns back to face Fort Max, walking backward, hoping to encourage, not pressure Max, yet still moving forward.

Fort Max is impressed, to say the least, with how Sunstreaker handles himself around Rung. He could never do that. His tracks twitch and slump down. The tiny psychiatrist makes Max's plating itch. Rung is always so touchy-feely. And he stares. Max doesn't like that. Not one bit. Those long, skinny fingers always stroking his plating... Touching him. Rung makes him VERY uncomfortable and so far, Rung hasn't done anything to help him. In fact, Rung makes Max feel like he should just be over....Over..... He should be....the whole..........s-should be over...it. Touch. Stroking his thigh. Doesn't want to be touched. He's being touched. His intakes hitch. Rung doesn't get it. Rung doesn't understand! He doesn't _know._ He minimizes Max's pain... All the time. Rung just wants to touch. ' _You're so big, Maximus,' says Rung._ Stroke. Touch. That name! Max hates that name! _**'You're mine, Maxy! My big Maximus...' says Overlord.**_ He feels sick. Condensation beads up on his forehelm. Max is hurting and getting scared which makes him angry. Just like he does at his "therapy" sessions. Oh please, no. Please! He doesn't want an attack now! They'll blame Sunstreaker! And it's not Sunstreaker's fault. They'll take away his new friend. He doesn't have any friends. He needs a friend. Max rubs at his chest, and holds his stomach, that...sick... feeling boiling up inside him, smothering his spark. His treads start to tremble. Max gasps, his intakes hitch again, that hand! Long fingers! Touching him! No! He hates being touched! Why does Rung always touch him!? 

Rung strokes Fortress Maximus' forearm, unable to prevent his fingers tips from lightly grazing his Maximus' belly with every touch. "There, there Maximus, it's alright," 

Sunstreaker watches the change come over Fort Max, like a summer storm on Earth would a nice day; how the bright, sunny(yes, he is vain enough to use that pun) day slowly gets enveloped by dark clouds, charge building and building demanding to be released in an explosion of thunder and lightening and yeeeeeeaaaaah....he is not about to let that happen. And shit! Max's reaction when Rung touches Max sets of all kinds of warning signals in the frontliner and he immediately closes the distance between himself and Fort Max.

"The hell it is alright! Back off, Rung. Now," Sunstreaker grabs Rung's wrist hard, but not hard enough to dent, and growls down at the smaller mech, ice cold cerulean optics narrowing, burning brightly, full of threat, "I ain't gonna ask again,"

Bob buzzes and growls angrily at the little mech, backing up Master. As soon as he picked up on Big-Mech-Nice-Petties distress he galloped back over, prepared to protect at all costs. 

Rung squeaks when his wrist is grabbed and instantly releases Fortress Maximus. He takes one look up at Sunstreaker and concedes for the night, deciding not to meet the threat in those icy optics. "This is so very far beyond what you can handle, Sunstreaker, especially when you are not well yourself, if the onslaught of human expletives are any indication. This is foolish. So very foolish,"

"Fuck off, Rung," Sunstreaker snarls. 

Offering one last glare at Sunstreaker and concerned frown at Fortress Maximus, Rung turns and heads to his office, not at all pleased. 

Sunstreaker growls in Rung's direction before turning his attention back to Max, giving Bob a few scritches. 

"Hey, big guy. How we doin'?" Sunstreaker's spark clenches tight in its chamber at the sight of his friend in such turmoil. He speaks softly, filling his field with comfort/safe/protection and gently pushes it against Max's own agonized field. "Can you come on back to me, Max?" 

Bob whines and he circles Big-Mech-Nice-Petties, who, for reasons unknown to Bob, has dropped to his knees and is acting just like Master. He chuffs and chirps, then settles down against Big-Mech-Nice-Petties, placing his helm in Big-Mech-Nice-Petties lap and starts to purr. Just like he does with Master. 

Fort Max keens, his treads shaking badly, engine revving hard, his fans screaming, visual input whiting out. Doesn't wanna be touched. Hates being touched. _Please don't touch me. Please......._ He whimpers, frozen in place, so terrified, and then... Max feels safe and warm, bathed in something bright and golden and yellow. Sunshine?! Max blinks, resets his optics, and smiles shyly, "S-Sunstreaker.... "


End file.
